


In the Gardens of Memory

by Tanista



Series: That Deep Romantic Chasm, or Journey to the Center of the Neath [12]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, MacGyver (TV 1985), Sunless Sea
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Gen, Mirrors, Parabola, Uncle-Niece Relationship, general Neathy weirdness, reflections, the sigil for an unexpected change of destiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanista/pseuds/Tanista
Summary: What's an Innocent Spy's Reflection to do, when his flexion's destiny has apparently been altered?Go in search of another one, naturally.





	In the Gardens of Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Chapters 55 and 56 of deepandlovelydark's Fulgent Engineering, having to do with Reflections and Fingerkings, of Parabola and Is-Nots. 
> 
> So here's something from that same side of the mirror, in this particular AU.

 

_In the gardens of memory,_

_in the palace of dreams,_

_that is where you and I shall meet._

 

The Mad Hatter,  Alice Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll

 

Something's changed, on the other side of the mirror.

His flexion's abruptly quit dreaming of the Fulgent Impeller. Leaving his cozy berth on the _Clipper_ for another, harsher ship entirely. Abandoning the deal made with the Fingerkings, to infiltrate the Bazaar and steal the secrets of the Stone Pigs.

Foiling all his own carefully-crafted plans in the process.

Sure, the Parabolan version's already installed in the hold of the dream- _Clipper,_ hot and full. But what could have possibly convinced his flexion to give up on building the real thing? To actively seek to change his destiny, if such a thing is possible?

(Of course in Parabola anything is possible, but this is of a different order entirely.)

If the Reflection could talk back through the looking glass, he'd ask just what the heck's going on out there.

********************

It's dangerous, insist the Anonymous Captain and the Atheist Cartographer, to ride the dreams of your own flexion. "If you go too deep, we might not be able to pull you back in time. And we need you here, to look after the Impeller."

But he has to know the truth- he's as stubborn as his flexion that way- so despite their warning he nonetheless goes through with it, choosing a time when the Spy's deep in slumber. He slips through the day's activities as they're sorted, then finds an opening into the dream.

And is amazed by what he sees.

Real sunlight, glowing green and golden though the trees. Limitless blue sky high above him, broken up by the occasional puffy white cloud. The warm brush of a summer breeze against his skin. The gentle give of rich forest loam beneath his feet.

(Memories of a place very far away from here, in both space and time.)

A petite young woman by his side, smiling up at him as they leisurely hike through the forest. "I've missed you so much, Unc," she says softly. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Originally intending to ravage the dream- ruthlessly use it as a tool for discovering the truth- he finds himself instead taking her small hand in his, kissing it. "Missed you too, Becky. I'll find a way back to you, promise. Just hang on a while longer."

(Who is she? How does he know her name? What does this sudden surge of tenderness and love mean as he looks down at her?)

In confusion he pulls away from the dream, back to the other side of the mirror.

A raised eyebrow from the Cartographer. "Well? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure."

********************

He stands alone on the prow _,_ tasting the sixty-four winds.

The dream-Impeller's fast enough to outrun the dragons for now, so the ship can serve as a refuge of sorts for other Reflections.

Everyone's aware it's only temporary, though. They can't outrun the Fingerkings forever. Sooner or later the dragons will pounce en masse and that will be that. Nothing left but hollowed-out shells without any trace of self-awareness.

He hears the furtive whispers among the expanded crew. Surely there must be a haven somewhere in Parabola, within the infinite reaches of Is-Not, where Reflections can exist in peace and safety.

Then a stray tendril brushes by, carrying the twinkle of blue eyes, the merest echo of a tinkling laugh, a soft pleasing scent floating in the breeze.

Other sensations follow in its wake. A feeling of connection. A promise of a distant land. A faint thrill of hope.

Could be a trap. Then again, could be something else altogether.

Something better.

********************

He reaches into the dreams of zailors, borrowing their skills to craft a skiff, complete with miniature Impeller.

The Captain and the Cartographer protest his leaving. "What if it's the Fingerkings, luring you away from us?"

"All the more reason for me to go by myself," he patiently explains. "I'm not willing to put the entire ship at risk just because I'm at the top of their most-wanted list. Besides, maybe this'll be enough to confuse them for a while, put them off your trail. Don't worry, I'll send word as soon as I get to the bottom of this."

With their reluctant blessing and a copy of the Cartographer's timetables he takes his leave, following the vague yet persistent call tugging at him.

He supposes his flexion might call it a gut feeling, something he simply has to do.

Not that he himself really has a gut, of course.

********************

Miraculously, he seems to have escaped the attention of his pursuers. He's not sure what that means for those he left behind, but he hopes for the best all the same.

Eventually he loses track of how long he's been away from the ship. Time, space and their treacheries have no real meaning anyway, this deep in Parabola.

On sheerest instinct he steers his skiff along the dreams of zailors and zee-monsters, of men, women and those of indeterminate gender, of Rubbery Man and Rattus Faber, of the well-to-do and down-at-heel.

When dreams turn into nightmares, like any storm he either skirts around the edges or hunkers down and waits it out, until the way is clear once more.

He'd consider himself lost if not for the timetables and that sense of connection, growing ever stronger.

********************

In time the zee of dreams becomes a river flanked by tall cliffs and the skiff turns into a kayak, more effectively navigating the water churning into white foam with the swiftness of the current. He paddles until he spies a spun-silver bridge arching high above him, with a dock nestling below. After tying the kayak up he climbs the steps carved into the side of the cliff.

The bridge quivers as he approaches; he lays a hand gently upon a railing. (It's solid, he can feel it, how can that be?) "It's okay," he soothes. "It's me, the Knight-Consort. Returning to my Princess after a long time away."

(Somehow he knows exactly what to say; well-versed with the logic of dreams, he doesn't question.)

The bridge relaxes and allows him across into a forest, much like in his flexion's dream. He passes under tall trees until they began to thin around him, shortly emerging onto a ridge overlooking a broad valley.

He follows the road as it ambles past flowery meadows, small farms with orchards and cozy cottages. He suddenly realizes he knows this land, or at least his flexion does. He'd crossed the magic bridge over the Whitefoam River- with Darkmaze Woods on the opposite side- and passed through the Sweetshade Forest to get here. To the north is the Lone Watchtower, where the Gray One was fought and defeated. In the west by the Whispering Sea lies the Summer Palace, a light-filled pavilion. To the east looms the forbidding Ironheart Mountains where once dwelt the Evil Ogre, Murdoc.

(He realizes something else. This place is tucked in a far corner of Parabola; the Fingerkings will never find him here, so maybe it could become a haven for the other Reflections as well. He makes a mental note to send word to the _Clipper_ as soon as possible.)

Eventually he comes to a city, walled in mellow stone and gated with oak and iron, buildings roofed with slate or tile. Pennons alternating between blue and silver or red and gold flutter in the breeze from every tower in the wall. At the heart of the city stands a tall, white castle, graceful yet formidable, a single flag quartered with blue, silver, red and gold waving on a pole from its tallest tower.

It's a beautiful, prosperous land but something's missing.

No people. No animals. No subjects of any kind.

There's a hushed air of expectancy. Of waiting for something.

Or some _one_.

Waiting for him?

********************

The castle is light and airy, suitable for a gentle, wise monarch of a kingdom at peace.

Yet still quite empty.

He enters the throne room with its high, carved walls and ceiling, lush tapestries and ornate mirrors alternating between tall arching windows. Steps at the far end lead to two wooden thrones, one elegantly carved where a silver crown- patterned with vines and flowers, adorned with amethysts and diamonds- rests atop a blue cushion. Beside her throne is a plainer version, where a simpler gold circlet sits on a red cushion.

The Princess and her Knight-Consort.

He hears a faint sigh. A young woman reclines on a sofa, staring into a mirror. A Reflection, but formed naturally, not through ritual trickery as he was.

Petite, blue eyes, glasses. Just like in his flexion's dream.

He quietly approaches and she looks up, startled. "Who are you? I thought I was all alone."

"Sorry if I scared you. I just arrived." He smiles gently. "Nice place."

"Thanks, I think. You know what's weird? I just arrived myself and yet it feels like I've always been here. I guess it's no surprise; this whole realm's created from her daydreams, after all."

He follows her gaze through the mirror. Her flexion's resting on a sofa in a cozy cottage, the room lit by firelight and gas lamps. She's taking to someone very familiar standing nearby.

His flexion. The Innocent Spy.

A quick touch through the mirror, a riffle of memories and he understands everything.

So that's why he abandoned his quest to bring the Impeller through the looking glass and into the real world. Once he'd heard that his niece Becky (the Sensible Bookworm) and his best friend Jack (the Unrepentant Smuggler) were in the Neath, he felt there was no other choice but to give everything up and find them.

He'd do anything for them.

(And, in a manner of speaking, _he_ would _,_ too.)

Makes perfect sense, really.

"Hey--" She glances from the mirror to him and back again. "He looks like you!"

"And you look like her. Amazing, huh?"

He winks and she laughs.

"Apparently they know each other pretty well, then."

"They should, they're family."

She eyes him speculatively. "So does that mean _we're_ family?"

He smiles and cocks his head, mimicking his flexion. "Guess it does. Mind if I join you?"

At her nod he sits on the sofa; she tentatively lays her head on his lap, just like her flexion.

There's a surge of power, similar to when he was first activated. A sense of solidity.

A connection, once tenuous, now fully established.

Memories flow between them, of warmth, of closeness. Of love.

She gazes up at him, eyes wide with wonder. "My Clever Knight. How I've missed you."

He smiles tenderly down at her. "My Brave Princess. Welcome to your realm."

********************

The _Clipper_ docks by the Summer Palace, in calm blue waters that reflect the sky above. Instead of the Union Jack it proudly sports a flag of quartered blue and silver, red and gold. Occasionally it heads out on secret missions into the zee of dreams, but this is its home port now.

The realm is bustling, full of Reflections of all kinds. There are mirrors everywhere, for here there is freedom to live without fear of being consumed. Freedom to explore all the possibilities the Is-Nots have to offer. Freedom to pursue their own dreams. Mirror-stepping and other forms of flectere are openly taught to every new immigrant who arrives.

(No one's allowed to void-slip anyone else here, though. Ever.)

A mutual-protection treaty has been struck by the Brave Princess and Specchio, the Parabolan Panthers' representative. With other cats they patrol the entire realm, on guard against any incursion by their ancient serpentine rivals, the Fingerkings.

No dragons have dared showed up yet but if it ever happens they'll find themselves up against some very formidable defenses, jointly designed by the Anonymous Captain and the Clever Knight, the best dream-engineer on both sides of the mirror.

The Princess and her Knight-Consort recline on their thrones, laughing and chatting with everyone after official business has been concluded. Even though they're rulers in name only- this realm is essentially her flexion's creation, after all- with no formal court or hierarchy, they are still sought out for assitance and advice, separately and together.

A very effective team, one might say.

(The Atheist Cartographer- when not busy charting the dreams that wash against the shores of the realm- has become something of an unofficial Herald to the court, though with less cynicism and much fewer prophesies of doom.)

Of course the Knight and the Princess keep a close eye on the Spy and the Bookworm. Even with their flexions' own amazing adventures in Fallen London it's satisfying to observe how they always find time to look after each other.

Just as they did back on the Surface.

As above, so below.

All is well, on both sides of the looking glass.

Sometimes a change in destiny can actually be for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> The dream realm is an expanded version of Becky' s imaginary kingdom from her childhood, as described in my story in Domestic Adventures, "The Secret Garden."


End file.
